“untitled”

on the road

and in the ridges

where rain crackles on windshields wide

the dreams of youth form wicked ideas

they are wild and numerous

and they stretch

all in a breath

from sea to shining sea

 

how are those golden maps

those spinning compass needles

like four corners in the hot new mexican dust

 

all the fusion and the willful frustrations

all the winters and their warm summer cousins

just a small, delightful sip of wonder

tinged with a taste of pine and smoke

 

on our beds

and out the windows

a conspiracy of whispers

that so swiftly wander

all through the light

from the deepest wood to the highest mountain top

 

where are they now?

those slender wristed girls

like magic on a bedroom stage

 

and all their curls

in their skin so porcelain

just the only thing

simply… the purest thing

that we ever really wanted

 

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: